


Cadets

by airandangels



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airandangels/pseuds/airandangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written by request for haikitteh, and is not intended to fit into canon continuity. It basically started from a goofy conversation about 'Will you explain kissing to me, Julian?' Her specifications were:</p><p>"I’m not sure if they went to the academy at the same time, but let’s say they did. For the sake of fanfiction. So they meet there, freshman year (for Julian at least). They meet cute in a lab somewhere (not unlike the scene capped above) and geek out over some science-y thing (I have no scientific ability so I can’t imagine what this would be - maybe something related to medical diagnostic equipment so Julian has a reason to be there) and they test it out on each other, find out they need to do more work on it. Then the library, it’s almost deserted, maybe they see some people snogging in the stacks, that could spur the request…<br/>"I think the main thing is that Julian has all sorts of ideas about the suave guy he wants to be, and is able to drop most of that while he’s caught up in investigations with Data, while Data sees him as a font of knowledge about human behavior, as well as being trustworthy, a kindred soul. Then innocent hookup. Then porn."</p><p>To which I would add, I have re-ordered time, obviously, because Data is quite a bit older than Julian, but this is just for funsies, which is also why I’ve given the cadet uniforms divisional coloured shoulders, when as far as I’ve seen in the show they were always red. But Data should not wear red; it looks terrible on him. The reddest thing he should wear is russet or burgundy. And while I’m at it, the uniforms are going to be a jacket and pants, because to HELL with jumpsuits; I plan to UNDRESS these people eventually. You don’t do that much jumping in Starfleet anyway; it’s mostly running and Kirk-rolling.</p><p>I have taken some dialogue directly from 'Birthright, Part One' because how cute were they together in that?</p><p>There is actually nothing smutty in the first chapter. Sorry.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haikitteh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haikitteh/gifts).



> This was written by request for haikitteh, and is not intended to fit into canon continuity. It basically started from a goofy conversation about 'Will you explain kissing to me, Julian?' Her specifications were:
> 
> "I’m not sure if they went to the academy at the same time, but let’s say they did. For the sake of fanfiction. So they meet there, freshman year (for Julian at least). They meet cute in a lab somewhere (not unlike the scene capped above) and geek out over some science-y thing (I have no scientific ability so I can’t imagine what this would be - maybe something related to medical diagnostic equipment so Julian has a reason to be there) and they test it out on each other, find out they need to do more work on it. Then the library, it’s almost deserted, maybe they see some people snogging in the stacks, that could spur the request…  
> "I think the main thing is that Julian has all sorts of ideas about the suave guy he wants to be, and is able to drop most of that while he’s caught up in investigations with Data, while Data sees him as a font of knowledge about human behavior, as well as being trustworthy, a kindred soul. Then innocent hookup. Then porn."
> 
> To which I would add, I have re-ordered time, obviously, because Data is quite a bit older than Julian, but this is just for funsies, which is also why I’ve given the cadet uniforms divisional coloured shoulders, when as far as I’ve seen in the show they were always red. But Data should not wear red; it looks terrible on him. The reddest thing he should wear is russet or burgundy. And while I’m at it, the uniforms are going to be a jacket and pants, because to HELL with jumpsuits; I plan to UNDRESS these people eventually. You don’t do that much jumping in Starfleet anyway; it’s mostly running and Kirk-rolling.
> 
> I have taken some dialogue directly from 'Birthright, Part One' because how cute were they together in that?
> 
> There is actually nothing smutty in the first chapter. Sorry.

'Cadet' was a nice title, one that told people you were going places, going on adventures, but Julian couldn't wait to replace it with 'Doctor.' That would really complete the transformation of his life. Already it was wonderfully different - independent, away from the perpetual pressure of his parents' standards and expectations and _fuss_ , free to fashion his own identity and decide just how he wanted to present himself. The uniform helped - he thought the science blue across his shoulders was a good colour for him, and the crisp black body looked dashing and dramatic, the tailoring making the best of his long legs. Dr Bashir was going to be handsome and debonair, with a ready smile and an easy, cheery word for everyone. He had a new haircut (Starfleet sideburns, as razor-sharp as the barber could get them) and the Academy tennis team wanted him and he was pretty sure nobody guessed he hadn't spoken with this accent all his life.

He liked San Francisco, too, the hills and the sea and the cool damp air, the great red bridge and the eccentric mixture of architecture, and the feeling, wherever he went, of walking where heroes had been, where adventures had begun. He had known he would be a doctor since he was tiny, and he had known he would join Starfleet since he was, well, quite small. In just a few short years he would be out there among the stars, heading for the frontier, and the thought of it made his heart beat faster with excitement.

That didn't mean he was unexcited about the here and now. He was constantly learning all sorts of fascinating things, feeling his mind stretched and challenged, and meeting the most interesting people. The value of living in the dorms and actually having somewhere to bring girls could scarcely be overstated. Moreover, the fickle finger of fate had allotted him a single, so he didn't even have to establish some sort of keep-out-I'm-getting-my-leg-over code with a roommate. He would have needed it - the first few weeks of term were prime legover conditions, with thousands of excited young people from all over the Federation beginning the adventure of their lives, and falling into each other’s arms all over the place.

Things began to settle down a bit after that, as the thrills of orientation and intitiation began to wear off, and social circles began to form, pecking orders to stratify. Assignments and assessments began to fall due, and the Academy’s notoriously heavy courseload began to make itself felt. The loudest moans came from the engineering and hard-science students who objected to the liberal arts requirement - after all, when would an understanding of Klingon epic poetry help them to avert a warp core meltdown? Julian learned not to say how much he enjoyed the very breadth of the curriculum, although he did point out to a few people the value of being well-rounded, and indeed of having something to talk about if you had to go to some sort of Klingon diplomatic function. Responses ranged from ‘Just read ‘em some bloody Shakespeare’ to ‘Oh Julian, you’re so _clever.’_ Though the girl who’d said that didn’t seem interested in a second date, which was a pity.

All right, he was clever, and determined to make the most of it. He signed up for engineering extension courses and stretched his mind just as hard as he could. Some all-nighters were planned, some were simply because he couldn’t stop reading about something he’d just discovered, and his morning alarm caught him by surprise. He took comfort in the thought that he was young and vigorous enough to be resilient - and went to bed early a few times, when he could bear to.

He was friendly with plenty of people, but so far, had no close friends. Sometimes, briefly, he felt a bit lonely.

Late one night, an idea occurred to him that he could not wait for morning to try out. He was sure he had thought of a way to improve the efficiency of the engines in the new runabout class of shuttles the engineering instructor had talked about yesterday, and almost as sure that he could prove it with the engineering lab simulator. The idea fizzed in his brain until he couldn’t contain it. He got out of bed, pulled on his clothes, and set out in the dark across the sleeping campus, only a few lighted windows showing where people of similar inclinations studied.

Julian let himself into the building with his palm-print and hurried up to the simulator lab, where he busied himself setting up the parameters he had in mind. He supposed, in a vague way, that it was a little bit of a cheek for him to be doing this, but if the idea proved useful the engineers would surely be grateful enough to overlook any sort of hurt feelings about territory. Inter-disciplinary studies were the way forward, anyway, and he counted himself blessed to have such a flexible, synthesising sort of mind.

He was engrossed in his programming, having just hit a bit of a sticky patch, when a mild voice broke in upon him: ‘Excuse me. Do you have authorisation to work in this area?’

It seemed only reasonable to include him, whoever he was. ‘Come in, come in. I need a hand with this simulation. See if you can boost the power output to sixty five percent.’

‘I am sorry, but use of this equipment is limited to the faculty of engineering and its students.’

‘Ah,’ Julian said, looking up properly for the first time. Cadet’s uniform, but operations gold across the shoulders, and above that, the most extraordinary face, a kind of pearly white-gold colour, and truly golden eyes, mild but astute. Pointed chin, soft mouth, slightly beaky nose, high, intelligent-looking forehead. He didn’t look like any of the alien races Julian was studying in xenobiology, but that colouring certainly wasn’t human. He gave him a warm handshake anyway. ‘Julian Bashir, Starfleet Medical. I’m in the extension course. And you are Cadet...?’

‘Data.’

For a moment all Julian could think was _Oh my God oh my God._ ‘Cadet Data. The synthetic lifeform?’

‘Yes,’ said the other, as if this were not eye-poppingly remarkable.

‘It's an honour to meet you, sir! I've heard so much about you. You must have a fascinating perspective into biocybernetic research. I'd be delighted if we could discuss the subject sometime.’ He knew he was babbling, and the ‘sir’ had popped out before he thought about it, even though Data was only two years ahead of him in his studies.

‘I would be happy to do so. However, I must ask you to stop your experiment.’ Data’s voice was gentle, earnest, indeterminately North American.

‘Ah. Yes. Perhaps I should have asked first - but I just couldn’t wait til morning, and I didn’t want to bother anyone.’

‘Is this an emergency?’

‘I’m afraid not. Just a sudden fit of enthusiasm. You see -’ and he outlined his idea. Data’s eyebrows, like brushstrokes in white paint, went up and he immediately made a rather perceptive suggestion. Delighted, Julian elaborated and found that he was perfectly understood, and Data’s next idea filled in a gap he had been hoping he could close with inspiration. The android seemed to forget about stopping the experiment in his curiosity, and his sleek head and Julian’s curly one bent together over the control panel.

As they worked, Julian kept casting little marvelling glances at his companion. One heard about him, of course, but he was seldom seen. Some said it was because he was so brilliant he found most people couldn’t keep up with him, and preferred to focus on solitary study. Others said he was socially retarded and could barely hold a conversation on any but technical subjects. Either way, Julian hadn’t expected him to be so... personable. There was something about his manner he was almost inclined to call sweet, if that hadn’t seemed such an inappropriate word for a sentient machine. He had an absolute confidence in his own knowledge and logic, which didn’t seem arrogant under the circumstances, and yet his way of speaking and looking at one was gently deferential. Julian found he liked him enormously.

When Julian’s eyelids began to feel heavy, he fetched himself a cup of strong, sweet tea, and stood leaning against the wall of the simulation chamber, watching Data complete the program.

‘Data,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘can I ask you a personal question?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Does your hair grow?’

Data looked at him, seeming nonplussed. Still, ‘nonplussed’ was a fair description of his affect much of the time; he did not display much emotion on his face. ‘I can control the rate of my follicle replenishment. However, I have not yet had a reason to modify the length of my hair. Why do you ask?’

‘Just curious.’ Julian leaned over, looking closely at Data’s hair, wondering if it felt real and if it would be rude just to reach out and investigate. The texture of his skin looked so real too, down to the faint little creases in his lips.

‘Power conduits are ready,’ Data said with calm efficiency. He appeared to notice Julian’s fascinated gaze. ‘Is something wrong, Cadet?’

‘You're breathing,’ Julian said in wonder.

‘Yes. I do have a functional respiration system. However, its purpose is to maintain thermal control of my internal systems. I am, in fact, capable of functioning for extended periods in a vacuum.’

Forgetting all about whether it would be rude, Julian reached out and held Data’s wrist. It was lightly warm, as his hand had been when he shook it, perhaps not quite as warm as his own flesh, but how remarkable, even so - and he hadn’t even thought about it because it seemed so natural. ‘And you have a pulse.’

Another verbose explanation was immediately forthcoming. ‘My circulatory system not only produces bio-chemical lubricants, it regulates micro-hydraulic power. Most people are interested in my extraordinary abilities: how fast I can compute, my memory capacity, how long I will live. No one has ever asked me if my hair will grow, or noticed that I can breathe.’ He looked at Julian almost shyly.

‘Your creator went to a lot of trouble to make you seem human. I find that fascinating.’ Fascinating was a small, poor word for it. He wanted to know all about it, every circuit and fibre of it. He turned Data’s hand over in his, examining the nails, tracing the fortune-teller’s lines in the palm.

‘But perhaps in that respect he failed,’ Data said. Julian thought he sounded faintly sad. ‘I may be physically convincing, but I struggle to interact appropriately. I misunderstand idiomatic speech, and I am at a loss to comprehend humour.’

‘Ah, but you used idiomatic speech just there, saying “at a loss”,’ Julian said, hoping to encourage him. ‘You must have learned so much from your beginnings, I’m sure you can learn anything else you want.’

‘Would you teach me?’ Data asked.

‘Teach you what?’

‘Socialisation. Friendship.’

‘Oh. I - I’m not sure I can really do that. Why do you ask me?’

‘Have I misinterpreted social cues? I was under the impression that you liked me.’ 

It was such a strange thing to say, Julian thought, especially with no sarcasm or defensiveness about it. ‘No, you haven’t at all. I like you very much.’ He found himself smiling as he said it, for it was quite true.

‘Then shall we be friends?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

‘The only impediment that I can see is that I do not like you.’

‘What?’ Julian’s smile dropped off his face as if he’d been slapped.

‘I do not dislike you either. It would be more accurate to say that I cannot like you. I do not experience the human range of emotion.’

‘Oh. Then... I suppose it’s all the same to you? You’re just... neutral about everything?’

‘No. I feel interest, and volition. I am profoundly interested in you, and in what I may learn from a closer acquaintance. You may say I am intrigued.’

‘That’s a good start. I’m quite intrigued by you, too.’

 

* * *

 

In the following days, they spent much of their free time together, talking endlessly. They determined that, in fact, Julian’s idea for the runabouts did not work, but it eliminated a line of inquiry that could have wasted a lot of time and resources. They further determined that Data had just as much difficulty understanding humour as he claimed, and Julian spent quite a lot of time trying to shore up what he thought was Data’s damaged self-esteem. In spending time with him, he was quite shocked to see how much people simply ignored him, speaking to him only as they would to a computer, to get information or give instructions, never asking what he thought or how he felt. Data would say ‘how he felt’ was not relevant, of course, but there was a great deal of ‘what he thought.’

Julian found him a thoroughly agreeable companion, curious and reflective, and he realised that, just a little bit, his feeling of warmth towards him was due to being flattered. Not that Data intended it, but it was highly flattering to be _looked up to_ to such an extent. He evidently regarded Julian as his authority and guide in all matters emotive and social, though to tell the truth, he thought less about the way he presented himself when he was with Data than at any time except when he was quite alone. He was so _comfortable._ There was nothing you had to be careful not to say to him, nothing that would make him think you were a bore, or strange, or a show-off, or of all things, a _nerd._

He found himself, oddly, almost ashamed to have Data with him when he was with other people, for suddenly he was showing another face, particularly in his flirtations; and yet Data said nothing about it, only watching with open and innocent curiosity.

‘I admire your ability to adapt your manner to your company,’ he said one evening, as they left a party Julian had brought him to. To tell the truth, it hadn’t been a great party; a large group had arrived already drunk, and for some reason a bunch of Vulcans who strongly disapproved of drunkenness were in attendance, yet didn’t seem willing to leave, perhaps because they had been there first and had been providing music, so everywhere you went someone was being a tipsy idiot or looking daggers at a tipsy idiot while strumming a lyre. The shy, bookish girl Julian had been hoping to introduce to Data had come with a loud friend who thought she needed to be protected from any man who might try to talk to her, and the definitely not shy girl he’d had in mind for himself hadn’t turned up at all.

‘It’s something you get the hang of,’ he said, shrugging as they walked down the hill towards his dorm. ‘Most people either learn to do it, or decide that they’re going to be exactly the same no matter who they’re with.’

‘I believe that is my default position. Is this a valid option?’

‘Of course. Especially since you’re so polite. Some people just use it as an excuse to be rude to everyone.’

‘Should I attempt to learn rudeness?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Julian said, laughing, walking backwards to look up at Data, above him on the stone steps down the hillside. ‘You’re so nice just as you are.’

‘It is fortunate that you think so.’

‘Everyone will think so once they get to know you.’

 

* * *

 

Still, most people did not seem interested in getting to know Data, and Julian continued to find it baffling. They began a collaboration on a special project, collating all existing information on androids and other artificial intelligences in order to analyse the commonalities and differences. This meant spending a lot of time together in the library, and they established a favourite spot up on the top floor where it was generally very quiet. This was where the board-and-paper books were stored on shelves of wood and metal, valued as antiques but seldom consulted. They arranged their padds on a table under a window, and passed long hours contentedly occupied - certainly, Julian felt very contented. From time to time, he would look up, his chin on his hand, and watch Data, marvelling at the rapid flicker of his eyes as he read more quickly than Julian could think. And yet, the soft breathing, the steady, subtle pulse, the flicker of white eyelashes as he blinked. 

They were not often interrupted up here, usually only by someone with a similar wish for quiet, or occasionally one who loved old things for their own sake and wanted to feel and smell pages and bindings four or five hundred years old. It was a surprise, then, to hear a muffled giggle between the shelves nearby, and a gentle bump of a body colliding, not hard, with a bookcase. Julian craned a little sideways, and was able to see two cadet uniforms pressed close together; the angle and the narrow space between shelves he was peering through didn’t allow him to be sure of anything else, just that the two people had their arms around one another and were kissing, if the sounds were anything to go by. ‘Slurping’ or ‘smacking’ would be putting it far too strongly, but in the quiet of the top floor you could distinctly hear the sounds of two sets of lips becoming much better acquainted.

He and Data had been sitting so quietly it seemed likely that the lovebirds thought they were alone. He flicked a wry look at Data, flexing his eyebrows upward and stretching his mouth in a tight-lipped smile, before giving a carefully enunciated cough and shifting his chair back an inch so that the legs grated audibly on the floor. A startled silence ensued, followed by the faint shuffling and creaking of two pairs of feet very carefully making their way to the stairwell, with a less successfully smothered giggle as the stair door clapped shut.

The simple quiet of nobody else around resumed. 

‘They didn’t have to go,’ Julian said after a moment, ‘but I thought it was only fair to let them know we were here, in case they thought they were in private.’

‘Julian, can you explain kissing to me?’

‘I - pardon?’

‘That is to say, I know how it is done, and in theory, why it is done, but I still do not _understand._ Perhaps you can shed light on it, from your experience. Have you kissed many people?’

‘Well, yes. Lots. I mean, there are all kinds of kisses, you know that, don’t you? The first people I kissed, or who kissed me, were my parents and grandparents, when I was little. And in different times and places, kisses have meant different things, like the kiss of peace, or kissing a feudal lord’s ring, a kiss for luck... you know, it’s not a universal human thing, or hasn’t always been. I was reading a book about the Black Ships and Japan for the history course, and one little snippet about the collision of cultures was that to the Japanese, kissing was a foreign custom. They didn’t have a native word for kiss, and when Japanese translators worked on English love poems and things, they had to substitute words like lick or bite or taste. So isn’t that strange!’

‘But licking and biting may be elements of kissing, and the sense of taste is inevitably involved,’ Data said, his brows knit together earnestly.

‘You seem to know a lot about it for someone who doesn’t understand it,’ Julian said, trying to laugh it off.

‘I am programmed in multiple techniques, but it is theoretical knowledge only.’

‘What, really?’

‘As you observed, my creator went to a lot of trouble to make me seem human. I am fully functional, and able to participate in human sexuality.’

‘Gosh’ was all Julian could think of to say. He should have thought about it, of course he should; why would Data be made so real and yet not that real? His face felt uncomfortably warm, as if the sun through the window were much brighter and hotter than on this rather cloudy day, and perhaps because of the topic of conversation, he felt acutely conscious of his lips. ‘Well,’ he said, trying to rally, because Data was looking at him so trustingly, so sure he could provide answers, ‘you know, you know then that kissing isn’t necessarily sexual.’

‘But it was in that case, correct?’ Data asked, nodding towards the shelves.

‘Well, yes.’

‘And you have kissed in that way?’

‘Yes.’

‘What, in your opinion, is the appeal?’

‘It - it feels lovely, and it brings you closer to the other person. Closer physically, of course; opening up your mouth to someone is pretty, er, intimate, and that can bring an emotional closeness, too, a sense that you won’t hide anything from each other, that you’ll let down your guard and show your real self, sincerely.’

‘As with a close friend?’

‘Yes. Though, of course, you may kiss someone and enjoy it without feeling any of that, just because you fancy them, and they you, and it feels nice for both of you. That’s quite all right, too. Don’t worry about the true-love purists if you just want to try it out.’

‘Do you think that I should?’

‘If you want to, of course.’

‘Will you help me?’

‘Help you find someone, you mean?’ It was a shame about that girl at the party, but surely he could sort _something_ out for Data; he was certainly handsome enough for someone to take an interest, if they could just get past all that silliness about him not being a real person.

‘Do you think it necessary to involve a third party?’

 _Oh my God oh my God._ ‘You’d like to kiss me?’

‘Only if that would be agreeable to you too.’

Julian hesitated, his mind racing ahead. On one hand he was having to rapidly re-compose his ideas about Data and what he might want or expect from him, not to mention what he might be able to expect in return. On the other, he wasn’t sure it was really the moral thing to do, and it certainly wasn’t going to give Data any impression of the  
 _normal_ way these things were done. On a notional third hand, it wasn’t as if Data could ever experience the normal way, given that he hadn’t had a childhood or an adolescence and all the things that went with those, like whatever you thought of as your First Kiss, and indeed this would presumably be Data’s actual, literal first kiss, and it was really sort of an honour, a privilege to be the person to provide that, for him or anyone; to try to give the other person a sweet memory rather than something they’d look back on with embarrassment or regret.

‘All right,’ he said, ‘let’s try. I can’t promise anything; you may be none the wiser afterwards, but it’s worth a shot.’

‘Thank you. Would you like to initiate the process or shall I?’

‘Well, as the one with experience, perhaps I should start us off.’

‘Very well.’ Politely, Data turned towards Julian, closed his eyes and waited.

Julian wet his lips, wondering why he should feel so nervous over just a kiss. He put his hand on Data’s shoulder, leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth. He felt no response, only a kind of alert stillness. ‘How’s that?’

‘Inconclusive.’

‘No-one’s ever told me _that_ before. How about now?’ Another gentle kiss, parting his lips slightly, sliding his hand to the nape of Data’s neck. A faint answering pressure, then a proper, if hesitant kiss in return. ‘Nice?’

‘I believe so. Your technique is consistent with a considerate and tender approach.’

‘But you’re still... just neutral?’

‘Yes.’

‘Pity. I was enjoying myself.’

‘You are welcome to continue.’

‘Not if it’s doing nothing for you. That way’s no fun.’

‘I regret that I cannot reciprocate.’ Data looked faintly dismayed.

‘That doesn’t mean you never will. You’re such a wonder, you really are. Don’t worry about what you can’t do yet.’

‘But perhaps I have understood something,’ Data said thoughtfully. ‘The fact that you were willing to do that is an indication of your regard for me; the degree of your friendship. I appreciate it.’

‘Good. Good.’ Julian smiled, trying to pass the matter off easily, and turned back to the article he’d been reading. 


	2. Chapter 2

The whole thing had put him into a ridiculous flap, and Julian hoped he hadn’t shown how much. That would only confuse matters. _Further_ confuse matters. He kept replaying the whole thing in his mind, trying to work out what he _should_ have done so he wouldn’t be feeling like this now. It hadn’t even been that much of a kiss; he shouldn’t be dwelling on it like this, or feeling so crushed that it hadn’t gone differently. What did he think he had, magic kisses that would give Data feelings he’d never had before? In the course of a few minutes, he’d gone from his ground state of ‘I actually quite fancy you but assume you don’t think of me that way’ to ‘oh do you? _do you?’_ right through to ‘bugger, you don’t, you probably can’t, and now that’s settled I realise I fancy you far more than I thought.’

He wanted to avoid Data to spare his own feelings, but that would just have been mean to him, _and_ confusing again. He did try to take his mind off the attraction by going on as many dates as he could, and that worked for as long as the date lasted. Once he was alone again, it was only a matter of time before his mind wandered back to The Kiss (by which he meant the one to which he got a response) and how it had felt and how his heartbeat had quickened. Data’s pulse had stayed as steady as ever, and he had to keep that in mind: he just wasn’t human, however closely he simulated it, and that should govern Julian’s expectations, or lack thereof.

 _Just be his friend,_ he told himself. _He needs you._ In some ways, Data was very self-sufficient, but he appeared so eager to please Julian and to spend more time with him that he must surely have been very lonely. He had the most heart-breaking little stories, and didn’t even seem to realise how sad they were. For example, he didn’t use the dorm room that had been allotted to him, because his assigned roommate had professed himself utterly creeped out by Data’s habit of standing motionless in a corner when he was trying to sleep. Data had been trying not to disturb him by moving about or making noise. Instead of _explaining_ that he would have felt more comfortable if Data had sat in a chair or lain on his bed, at least presenting the appearance of sleeping while he mentally reviewed his study files, thereby solving the whole problem, the roommate had told him to get out. And Data had got out, because he didn’t need the room for anything. He had few possessions, didn’t sleep, eat or go to the toilet, seldom needed to clean himself in any way more elaborate than a wipe-down with a damp cloth. So now he had no home. In one way Julian shouldn’t complain about this, because it was why Data had been in the engineering building so late on the night they had met, but it still really bothered him.

He tried to make up for it by inviting Data to spend time with him in _his_ room. This had the unexpected side effect of getting his room tidied up, his laundry folded and his bed made with a degree of precision that even his mother would have looked upon with mild astonishment.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ he protested.

‘I do not,’ Data said, without pausing in the remarkably rapid and deft folding of a pair of pyjamas, ‘but I choose to, as a friendly gesture. Besides, you do not do it.’

‘I do. I just don’t do it _immediately.’_

‘You pull up your duvet without straightening or re-tucking your sheets, which seems inefficient.’

‘Sheets don’t _matter._ This isn’t an old-fashioned barracks where I’ll get into trouble if someone can’t bounce a coin off my cot. Come on, don’t fuss about with that, you’re my guest. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.’

Studying together in the dorm room was different from the library, because there was only one chair, at the desk. Julian gave this up to Data as the duty of a good host, and in any case had seldom used it for studying himself. When in his own room he tended to work sitting on the bed or sprawled on the floor or sitting with his back against the wall, moving around every few minutes as the whim took him. He observed Data observing him over the top of his padd, and at length said ‘Do you know, I think you’re experiencing an emotion right now?’

‘What is that?’

‘Disapproval. You look very disapproving.’

‘I do not disapprove, but I do not understand how this behaviour can be conducive to concentration.’

‘Well, don’t my grades speak for themselves?’

‘Perhaps they would be better still if you sat at a desk.’

‘Then where would you sit? Well, if you’re so worried, budge up.’ He jumped up and tried to shove Data out of the chair with his hip, sorely confusing him. ‘You’re like a guinea pig. They have no concept of play either.’

‘I can play chess,’ Data protested, keeping his seat by bracing his arm against the desk. ‘I have an extensive knowledge of game theory. What are you doing?’

‘I’m sitting at my desk like a good little student,’ Julian said, plunking himself into Data’s lap. He was aware on one level that it was a fairly stupid thing to be doing, but that wasn’t the level making decisions at the moment. ‘There! Already I feel brighter. I think I know how to end my comparative cardiology essay!’

‘If you are using humour...’

‘It’s mostly just silliness. Sorry about that guinea pig crack. You’re nothing like a guinea pig; they have the most unintelligent faces. But your face - well, I like your face.’ It was very close to his own, a little lower, literally looking up to him as well as having that questioning but trusting expression he was getting to know so well. The kiss came as a shock, as did the arm around his waist.

‘Why did you do that?’ he asked when he was sure he could talk properly. It had been a longer and deeper kiss than The Kiss; in fact he thought it might have taken over The Kiss’ pre-eminent status.

‘I thought you wanted me to. Was your behaviour not intended as flirtatious? I have observed similar courtship behaviour between other cadets.’

‘Well... it was impulsive, and I don’t think I should have done it.’ He didn’t move from Data’s lap, though; sitting there with that arm around him felt too good.

‘Why not?’

‘It’s not fair to you.’

‘I do not understand.’

‘Because I want things that you don’t.’

‘I want to do what will please you, and make you happy.’

‘That shouldn’t be at your expense.’ Julian forced himself to get up and stand back. ‘That really is taking advantage of you.’ He felt guilty just looking at Data, who had the most plaintive expression of confusion on his face. ‘I’m so sorry. Just... I know you can’t exactly forget things, but try not to think about it any more.’

‘I apologise.’

‘Data, it’s not your fault! It’s mine. I’m the unreasonable one here, and I really don’t want to spoil our friendship with it. And I really need to finish this essay, so I’m going to get on with that.’ He sat down against the wall with his padd and stylus and concentrated fiercely, willing himself not to notice the way Data sat watching him, looking as if he were trying to think of the right thing to say but hopelessly adrift. Eventually he turned back to his own work, and Julian could relax a little.

He didn’t ask Data to study in his room again; working in the library made him think about The Kiss (1) but that was easier to cope with than The Kiss (2) with all that body contact and the bed just across the room and the shy but determined way Data’s lips had moved against his.

He tried going on dates with men as well as women, though for most of those he was just making himself go, trying to make himself feel more than he did. Seeing him kiss the previous night’s boy goodbye before entering the library, Data tilted his head in that bird-like way of his and said ‘May I ask you a personal question?’

‘Of course.’ They turned left inside the big double doors and headed up the old staircase that most people didn’t bother to use.

‘What is your sexual orientation?’

‘Well, that _is_ personal. Bisexual, I suppose, but it’s not an even split in my attractions. I would say it’s about eighty percent women, twenty percent men - I just don’t fancy men as often, but when I do I’m keen as mustard. Does that make sense?’

‘Mustard?’ Data repeated, looking baffled.

‘Mustard has a hot, sharp flavour. So the analogy is, a hot, sharp feeling.’

‘Ah. And a play on “keen” meaning sharp, and “keen” meaning avid or eager.’

‘There you are. Your conquest of idiom progresses.’ He gave Data an encouraging smile.

‘It would help if I possessed a human sense of taste. I would be able to analyse the precise chemical constitution of a mouthful of mustard, but I would have no perception of its flavour.’

‘I think a mouthful of mustard would make me either throw up or pass out. Perhaps one after the other.’

‘Likewise, my sense of touch is limited. I can perceive pressure, texture, temperature, friction, but am not conscious of either pleasure or pain proceeding from these.’ He sounded wistful, and Julian felt a pang of compassion for him. He wanted to hug him, but what point was there in that when Data would just experience it as squeezing, not as comfort? It was a thing he’d definitely noticed about Data, that when people touched him he seemed mildly surprised by it, and that he seldom touched others except for practical necessity. Of course he didn’t have the need for friendly or affectionate physical contact that humans did. As far as Julian knew, their three kisses and that arm around his waist had been the only exceptions in Data’s life. Oh _blast._ He was thinking about it _again._

‘Well, you’re lucky not to experience pain,’ he said. ‘A huge part of my profession is trying to relieve and prevent pain, so it’s rather nice to know you’ll never need my help that way.’

‘I would tolerate pain if I could receive pleasure too,’ Data said, still wistful. ‘I observe your responses to sensation, and I think I covet them. You appear to enjoy even very simple things, such as rising from your seat and stretching, or feeling the warmth of the sun or a breeze against your face. Your sensory world is a very rich and varied one, is it not, Julian?’

‘I suppose it is, and I should appreciate it more.’

‘However, my own perceptions are not without enjoyment.’

‘How so?’

‘I have given it considerable thought and analysis, and I believe that I experience satisfaction, if only intellectually, upon the successful performance of a skill. There is a sense that I am... good. Of worth.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Julian said, stopping and turning to face Data. ‘It really is. You _should_ feel good, and worthy. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.’

‘The experience is most pronounced when I am able to please you. For example, when I can make you smile.’ Data hesitated, then went on ‘Are other people better able to please you than I am?’

‘Oh, Data. No. Look... you’re my best friend. You are.’ He touched Data’s arm briefly, feeling foolish when Data turned his head to look inquiringly at the point of contact, taking his hand away quickly. ‘You please me all the time, in all sorts of ways.’

‘Yet the proportion of leisure time that you spend with me has diminished in the past two weeks, and the proportion spent with a range of others has increased, even cutting into the time formerly spent in solitary activities.’

‘That’s not on purpose,’ Julian lied. ‘Friendships go through phases, your time together ebbs and flows. I always come back, don’t I? I could have spent this afternoon with Zach. He wanted us to walk down to Ghirardelli Square and have coffee and chocolates. I said let’s do that another time, I’ve said I’ll meet up with Data. And no, before you worry about it, I didn’t say that out of a sense of obligation that I should just keep my word. I wanted your company.’

‘Do you like Zach very much?’

‘He’s all right. He’s good fun.’

‘Am I more or less fun?’

‘You are my best. Friend.’ Julian emphasised the two words with two taps on Data’s shoulder. ‘And I don’t say that lightly. Don’t worry about it. Look, let’s get our work done, and then we’ll do something fun together. There’s a tennis team party tonight. Come with me, and we’ll watch everyone being weird together.’

‘I do enjoy observing behaviour at social gatherings.’

‘And I enjoy observing you observing. Work first, then fun. Come on.’

The party was held in the home of a civilian artist who was dating the tennis team captain, which gave everything a bohemian kind of air, with a lot of bead curtains and mood lighting. Data stuck close to Julian, but peered with interest at the various sculptures and pictures scattered around the loft. Julian left him inspecting the pattern of a construction of intersecting panes of perforated tin while he went for a pee. Someone had procured from somewhere a couple of bottles of Romulan ale, which had made everyone feel very wicked and daring, and he’d made the mistake of knocking his first glass back rather quickly, then starting his second before the effect of the first one hit him, so he was feeling warm and giddy and extra friendly towards everyone.

While waiting in the hallway outside the bathroom, he was buttonholed by a fellow medical student.

‘Why did you have to bring the robot?’

‘Pat, I wish you wouldn’t call him “the robot.” He is _not_ a robot. He’s an android and they’re different. And he’s my friend and I like having him around. So there.’

‘He’s _so weird._ Look at him.’ Pat pointed into the main room, where Data was bending over talking to the artist’s cat.

‘I think he’s sweet!’

‘He’s creeping everyone out, Julian.’

‘Well they need to get over that! How’s he supposed to, to learn to be with people, if people won’t let him _be_ with people? Piss off. Speaking of piss.’ The bathroom door had opened and he nipped in quickly before someone else could. Pat was gone when he came out, but before he could get to Data he was diverted by the team captain, who herded him into the kitchenette with her.

‘Just help me mix up some more punch, Jellybean,’ she said. Madchen gave everyone nicknames, and they were usually ridiculous. Julian thought he’d got off fairly lightly, and he liked Madchen and her great cloud of curly red hair, so he went along and obliged her.

‘Now Jellybean,’ she said as she sloshed various juices and boozes into a large tub, ‘I’m going to Dutch uncle you, or auntie, or something.’

‘Oh, why? And he’s not a bloody robot!’

‘What? No, no, he’s fine, I’m not bothered about him. I just want to tell you to be a bit careful of your reputation.’

‘Don’t know what you mean.’ He stirred the punch and tasted it, then helped himself to a glassful.

‘Well, because people are starting to talk about you, and there’s a bit of a situation. Because you know Zach Smith?’

‘I do indeed.’

‘And you know Kitty Smith.’

‘She knows me all right.’

‘Jellybean, Kitty is Zach’s sister.’

‘Bloody hell. But look, that’s not my fault! They should compare notes or something. And look more like each other. And not be called Smith! How’s anyone supposed to know?’

‘No, I know it’s not your fault. But now they’ve both had you and they found out about it and they feel really weird and yukky. So I just think perhaps you should think about not changing partners quite so often, or getting to know people better first. I’m not trying to spoil your fun or cramp your style, Jellybean, I just want to look after you. You’re so cute and friendly and I don’t think you always think things through.’>

‘Oh, well, I’m glad you think I’m cute. I was beginning to worry that you hadn’t noticed.’ He fluttered his eyelashes at her.

‘Nice try, but some of us do like to be monogamous.’

‘Fair enough, but if you ever change your mind you know where to find me. And Madchen? You’re not much of a Dutch uncle. You’re too nice.’ He kissed her on the cheek and wove his way back to Data, taking great care of his new drink. Data was now sitting on a footstool with the cat treadling in circles on his knees.

‘I think this cat likes me,’ he reported with evident pride. Julian was aware that this cat liked everyone indiscriminately - after all, it was hanging out quite calmly in a room full of noisy jolly strangers - but he didn’t want to spoil Data’s sense of specialness by pointing that out.

‘Of course she does, because you’re lovely. Budge up.’ He sat down beside Data, the footstool fortunately being wide enough to accommodate both of them. ‘Having a good time?’

‘I am. Can you explain to me why that young man is inviting people to throw things into his mouth?’

‘Not for the life of me. Listen, a guy called Pat hasn’t been bothering you, has he? Taller than me with blond hair and brown eyes?’

‘No-one of that description has spoken to me.’

‘Good. You know, I bet we could do that. Let’s get some peanuts and you can practise on me.’

By the time the party started to break up Julian was unsteady on his feet and giggling at nothing, but as he pointed out to Madchen while saying goodbye, had succeeded in not falling on anyone’s dick. This image made him laugh so hard that he had to learn against Data.

‘Can you get him home all right, or should I get someone to help you?’ Madchen asked Data, who was trying to hold Julian up.

‘I anticipate no difficulty,’ said Data. ‘Thank you for a very interesting evening.’ He managed to get one of Julian’s arms slung around his shoulders and hoisted him into a more bipedal position.

‘See, now I think Maddie likes you,’ Julian said as they worked their way down the stairs to the street. ‘Soon she’ll give you a nickname and then we’ll know. I wonder what she could call you?’

‘I do not know. Nicknames tend to confuse me.’

‘I’m Jellybean. Jelly jelly jellybean. What is that? Bloody hell, that’s a big moth. Can you see that? It tried to fly up my nose. Swoosh!’

‘Are you all right, Julian?’

‘I am very very all right. How are _you?’_

‘I am operating within established parameters, thank you.’

‘You’re really strong, aren’t you.’

‘I am considerably stronger than a human of equivalent size, yes.’

‘You could pro’ly carry me home.’

‘Would you like me to do so?’

‘Nah, nah, I’m enjoying the walk, ‘sclearing my head. Not far now anyway. God, look at the stars! Look at that one! I think I’ll go to that one first. That one! That one just shot! Wonder where it’ll land.’

‘The majority of meteorites burn up in the atmosphere,’ Data said. ‘Any meteorite large enough to cause substantial damage on the Earth’s surface would be destroyed by defence satellites.’ He put his arm around Julian’s waist to hitch him up. Despite his claim of a clearing head he was slumping heavily against Data’s side.

‘What do you think you’re playing at there?’

‘I am not playing. I do not wish you to fall and injure yourself. This is a steep hill.’

‘You’re such a good friend. Why do only I know how lovely you are? Everyone should like you and want to cuddle you and take you around with them and throw peanuts in your mouth. I think, I think, right, that whoever made you said I want, I want to make an anonymous, sorry, autonomous android who can fully take part in human life and be the cutest bloody thing ever. That was the design spec. Right? And there were all these prototypes that they just didn’t use because they weren’t cute enough, and then they got you and they said right we have achieved perfection, nobody’s cuter than this. And that’s where you come from. Aren’t you glad I deduced all that? Makes sense of everything.’

‘Thank you, Julian.’

‘Data?’

‘Yes?’

‘I like you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘An’ I know you don’t like me but I think you, you not-like me, like you _something_ me that would be liking me if you could like me.’

‘I believe you are right. As I experience certain sensory input patterns, my mental pathways become accustomed to them. The inputs eventually are anticipated and even missed when absent.’ He looked at Julian’s flushed face for a moment, then added ‘You form my favourite pattern of sensory inputs.’

‘Awwwwwww!’

‘I wanted you to know that your “best friend” assessment of me is reciprocated, in my own way.’

‘I’m going to sing you a song.’

‘Thank you.’

‘The song is called. The song is called “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” Savery good song.’

By the time Julian had finished ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ and done ‘The Holly and the Ivy’ as an encore, they were at the doors of his dorm and he began loudly shushing himself and Data. ‘We have to be very, very quiet so we don’t wake everyone up.’

‘That would be advisable.’

‘I’m so glad you agree! SSSHHHHHHHH.’ Data looked at him in bewilderment and he folded up laughing again. Together they stumbled into the lift, then along the corridor to his own room.

‘You are very intoxicated. I am not sure it is wise to leave you alone,’ Data said as he manoeuvred Julian through the doorway.

‘Tha’s very soothe. Smooth. You can stay.’ Julian slung his other arm around Data’s shoulders and kissed him, pressing close to his body and pushing his tongue deep into his mouth. Data was very still at first, but after a moment closed his arms around Julian’s back and tried to return the kiss, the movement of his tongue a soft, slow, cautious pulse. Julian clung to him, kissing hungrily, his heartbeat thumping in his chest and his head.

‘You are sure?’

‘Course I’m sure. I want to take you to bed and teach you how to make me really, really happy.’

‘I want to make you happy.’

‘It’s not hard. No! Wait - there, it is.’

 

* * *

Julian woke with a headache that made him curse the whole Romulan Star Empire, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth and his eyes feeling itchy and rubbery. He felt quite disorientated, and it took him a moment to understand that Data was lying beside him, neatly, on his back. A blurry memory of the previous night came back, and a horrible flush of guilt.

‘Good morning,’ Data said.

‘Morning...’ A small hope flickered that he was confusing real events with a drunken dream. He’d often woken thinking he’d done something horrible, or his worst secret had been found out and he was going to have to face the consequences, only to realise with immense relief that it had only been a nightmare. ‘What, um, what happened last night, actually? You stayed over, obviously...’

‘At your invitation. You kissed me quite passionately.’

‘Oh God...’

‘We got into bed together, you continued to kiss me, and with your guidance I masturbated you to orgasm. Then you fell asleep.’

‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’ Julian screwed his eyes shut, feeling the full, awful wash of shame, his stomach turning over. He rolled over and hid his face in the pillow.

‘I am not. It was an intriguing experience which gave me a sense of proficiency and satisfaction.’

‘It’s so _selfish._ One-sided.’ Julian buried his face in the stuffy softness of the pillow, wishing he could disappear or be magically granted a twelve-hour rewind on his life. He couldn’t even tell Data to leave without feeling worse, if that were possible.

‘I do not think so.’

‘But you can’t feel the same way,’ Julian moaned.

‘No, I cannot. But I have my own perception of the experience which I believe is valid - though I suppose if you do not consider it valid we cannot reach an understanding. That would be most disappointing.’

‘I feel so sick, Data. I think Romulan ale is poison.’

‘Julian?’

‘Yes?’

‘You are normally a very informative and enlightening companion. Why is it that on this topic, your behaviour is inconsistent, your professed attitude contradictory, and your speech evasive? I had hoped that you would be able to guide me through courtship and the development of a sexual relationship with your customary clarity.’

Julian raised his head, baffled. ‘Do you mean you just see this as a _learning experience?_ An experiment?’

‘No. It is a genuine relationship. I was sincere when I told you you are my favourite... my favourite person.’

‘You have... a really unusual perspective.’

‘Yes. I think that is to be expected. Perhaps a failure to allow for this is at the root of your problem.’

‘So... what you’re saying is that... I’ve been unfair to you in a different way than I thought, by sort of discounting the possibility that... we could have a relationship on an equal footing but get very different things out of it.’ It was a lot to think his way through with his head feeling like this.

‘Precisely.’

‘Because I’ve been thinking... if you can’t feel the same kind of love and desire as I do, it’s just not fair.’ He turned onto his side, towards Data, wondering if he actually had an honest way out of this awful feeling. ‘But you’d disagree?’

‘I would.’

‘I do still feel a bit sick, but things are looking up.’

‘Would you like me to bring you a hangover remedy?’

‘Coconut water? Coconut water’s good. Gives you back your electrolytes and cures dehydration. Really? You’ll get me a coconut water? You’re that kind?’

‘Certainly.’ Data swung his legs out of the bed, got up and went to the replicator, still fully dressed.

‘I really don’t deserve it,’ Julian said. ‘I mean, I got drunk, pashed you, wheedled you into giving me a handjob and fell asleep right after. I was even too lazy to take my clothes off properly.’

‘You did not take your clothes off at all. I unfastened and lowered your trousers and underwear for you. Coconut water, please. A large glass.’

‘I think it’s so sweet how you say please and thank you to computers. And I should tell you these things, so you know _why_ I feel this way about you.’

‘Because I am polite?’ Data asked, returning to the bed and sitting down beside him, handing him the glass. He looked rather hopeful at this thought.

‘That’s only a little part of it. But it is part of your appeal. Thank you.’ Julian drank deeply. ‘That’s helping. I believe it’s helping.’ He glanced at Data, feeling faintly sheepish. ‘So... I just want to make absolutely sure that I understand what you mean.’

‘That seems wise.’

‘You’d like us not to just be friends, but to have a sexual relationship. You’d like me to teach you about how that works for me. You don’t feel... in love with me, you don’t feel the kind of attraction or desire a human might feel, but you do want to experience this for yourself - and with me in particular? Someone else wouldn’t be the same? Does all that sound right?’

‘Yes. That is very accurate.’

‘So you definitely prefer me for this.’

‘Of course.’

‘But there isn’t going to be any kind of physical pleasure in it for you, is there?’

‘Not in the sense that there is for you, but as you have pointed out, I have an unusual perspective. Consider the sensory input of a kiss. For you, the pleasure arises from such physical factors as warmth, moisture, pressure and friction, and from the emotional factor of attraction, a desire for intimate contact which is satisfied but also restimulated by being allowed to kiss me. Correct?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘For me, the rewarding aspect of the kiss is the knowledge that I am providing this stimulation to you and you are enjoying it. Seeing, hearing and feeling the responses it evokes in you is a constant source of interest and satisfaction. This, to me, becomes a highly desirable and valued input. Perhaps in time, this will evolve into something analogous to the pleasure you experience. We will not know unless we try.’

‘It’s just tricky for me. I mean, my behaviour last night notwithstanding, if I’m going to have sex with someone I don’t want to just lie there and have them do things for me. And I’ll feel stupid if I’m kissing and stroking all over you and that’s just... nothing for you. If you’re lying there waiting for me to get it over with so you can do something you might enjoy.’

‘It would not be nothing. It would be palpable evidence that I am attractive and desirable to you. Besides, there are many positions and techniques that allow for a mutual and simultaneous pleasuring. If you are unfamiliar with them, I will be glad to explain and demonstrate.’

‘So you think you could teach me a thing or two?’

‘It is possible. Shall we try? Unless you do not feel well enough. I understand that the symptoms of a hangover may take some hours to abate.’

‘It’s amazing how much better I feel through the combined restorative powers of coconut water and, well, you.’ Julian put the glass aside on the windowsill, freeing his hands to frame Data’s face. ‘And I should tell you... I don’t know, how gorgeous I think you are and how miserable I’ve been thinking I shouldn’t do anything about it.’

‘How would you quantify those things?’

‘I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I’d better kiss you instead.’ Data felt much less hesitant this time, Julian thought. The first time he had hardly moved his lips, and the second he had just started to; he couldn’t really be sure about last night because _he_ had more or less just stuck his tongue down his throat. This time Julian felt a distinct responsibility to take his time, to begin in a gentle and delicate way, and to fully appreciate each little touch, perhaps because of Data’s listing of ‘physical factors.’ He moved his hands from Data’s cheeks to smooth through his hair, down the nape of his neck and over his shoulders, gradually guiding him to lie down beside him, just as gradually venturing deeper with his kisses.

‘Do I...’

‘Yes?’

Data seemed to be struggling to put a thought into words. ‘Do I still feel real?’

‘Completely. Wonderfully.’

‘My greatest concern is that my artificiality will become apparent and repellent.’

‘Data... I’ve seen you with the side of your head open. I still want to kiss you. Try not to worry about it. If it helps, pretty much every human has something they’re insecure about and hope a new lover won’t notice.’

‘Have you?’

‘All right. Look.’ Julian sat up and struggled out of his jacket, then pulled his teeshirt off over his head. ‘My shoulders were out to here’ - he indicated with his hand where the uniform shoulderpads came to - ‘and now they’re _here._ You will also notice the almost total lack of a chest. I spent all my teenage years believing I was going to fill out eventually, and I’m twenty and I still look like I’ve just finished a truly brutal growth spurt. I am a skinny, gawky person who has the good luck to wear a flattering uniform.’

‘But you appear entirely confident that you are attractive.’

‘That doesn’t mean I’m not nervous every time I take my shirt off in front of a new person.’ Julian lay down beside him again, resting a hand on his chest. ‘I know it’s not the same as your situation, nothing really is, but you know, there are parallels. And with time, hopefully, you’ll be confident enough that you’re attractive that you won’t worry.’ Another kiss, and another, admiring the growing fluidity of Data’s movements. He couldn’t decide whether commenting on that would give him confidence or not. Perhaps it would only draw attention to the artificiality thing. ‘And you are, you are, you are.’ He moved to unzip the front of Data’s jacket, still kissing him, savouring the bloom of warmth in his own lips as he pushed the sleeves down his arms, intrigued by the smoothness of his skin. He tugged the neatly-tucked black teeshirt out of Data’s waistband and slid his hands underneath, up over his stomach to caress his chest.

Until now, Data had not moved much, perhaps just getting his bearings. Hesitantly at first, he wrapped an arm around Julian’s waist, drawing him closer and running the other hand up his arm to his shoulder. ‘Is this good?’

‘Mm. I want you to stroke me all over. Want me to tell you where to go?’

‘Please. I would also appreciate commentary on how it makes you feel.’

‘Is it going to bother you if I talk a bit of nonsense? Because I probably will... especially as I get more excited.’

‘I will attempt to filter your utterances for what I can understand and use to give you greater pleasure. Are you comfortable?’

‘Very.’

‘You do not wish to urinate before we proceed? As you have just awoken from several hours’ sleep, it is most likely that your bladder is full and may cause discomfort.’

‘I know, but I don’t want to leave you for that.’

‘I will not mind. I wish you to be fully comfortable, without distractions,’ Data said, so earnest and eager to please that Julian had to press his lips together tightly in order not to laugh.

‘You’re right. I’ll be right back.’ One more kiss, and he clambered over Data and out of bed, hitching up his unzipped pants so they wouldn’t trip him on his way to the closet-sized bathroom. He caught sight of himself in the mirror on the way to the toilet and felt quietly glad that Data wasn’t too concerned with aesthetic considerations. His hair was all mashed up to one side, and his eyelids were puffy. Still, even if Data wouldn’t be bothered by looks or smells he owed him the same basic consideration as any other lover, so he gave himself a quick once-over with a washcloth, at least under the arms and around the areas where he wanted most attention, and washed his face and rinsed his mouth. His body was fizzing with that lovely _yes_ -I-get-to-have- _sex_ anticipation and it was doing a remarkable job of dispelling the hangover.

He left his clothes in a heap on the floor and hurried back to bed. Data was waiting for him, sitting patiently but looking a trace uncertain. He had undressed too, although he had folded his clothes and left them neatly at the foot of the bed. Julian stopped and stared at him, creamy pale amid his tumbled charcoal sheets, feeling a foolish smile on his own face.

‘You are beautiful,’ he said. ‘I know that’s not something you see, but maybe one day.’ He got back into bed with his heart pounding, wrapping his arms around Data. ‘Look at the contrast between you and me. Oh, that’s lovely.’

‘I believe I have devised an improvement to my technique for kissing you. It occurred to me while you were in the bathroom.’

‘Show me? Mm... yes, you’re just getting better and better. That’s lovely too.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sure how much further I can take this one, because I just can't get my head around describing the sex. Data is so gorgeous but really not operating at the same level as Julian and I feel like I'm exploiting my poor baby.  
> I'm planning another story, more in line with the main universe, in which he is a good deal more mature and able to engage as an equal.


End file.
